


Photographs of the Summer

by startrekto221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Photography, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-05 14:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekto221B/pseuds/startrekto221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every picture is worth a thousand words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Memory is like the Big Bang which created the universe. The earliest fragments of life are so fast that they are a blur while those that approach the present moment slow into clarity and freeze into the here and now.

 

Naturally then, remembering childhood is rather like watching a film whilst holding down the fast forward button. Pausing only to mark the brightest, most distinctive scenes. The birthday party. The new bike. The friend that moved and never came back. The first day of school. The time just past, in contrast, is concrete, a continuous collection of photographs only recently developed and still wet with ink, still holding the joy and pain of each moment.

 

John was no photographer. He was only given a second-hand camera for his seventeenth birthday because Mr. and Mrs. Watson had denied both his original requests. The first for a motorbike, which Mrs. Watson had always considered highly dangerous, and the second to have permission to travel across continental Europe with a few mates from the rugby team, which both considered a terrible idea at this rash and vulnerable age. When John had asked how he would ever “develop a perspective” on the world cooped up here at home, and why they could never “see it from his point of view”, which were in his opinion quite mature arguments, they had responded with the camera. It was times like this that he hated having educated parents. They had told him that photographs could be taken from many _perspectives_ , and he could _develop_ them himself. And then perhaps, they had said, they would see from _his point of view_ , and if they thought he was ready, then next year they would acquiesce.

 

Lacking the patience to explain his parents' strange antics to his friends, and hating the odd looks in response, as John knew his parents meant well, he told them it was a new hobby he had taken up to attract girls. It was sexy and different carrying around a camera. Lots of guys had motorcycles. Besides, what was wrong if they stayed the summer here? Europe would always be there. But the Carpe Diem philosophy was too strong with this group, so hasty goodbyes and promises to send postcards had been given out, and John found himself alone on the porch with the stupid camera, wishing in a typical teenage fashion that his parents were the type that just didn’t care.

 

Even they were traveling abroad over the summer. To Ecuador for an archaeological dig. They had offered to take him along, but John had had enough of sticky South American summers, sitting in the sand at the dig site and fetching supplies to and from his parents’ trucks. He would stay with his sister Harry, home for the summer from university, and in his words “waste away”. Mr. and Mrs. Watson had rolled their eyes at this, teenage drama, he would be over it in a few days. But it had been a week since they had drove off to the airport, on their way to cross the Atlantic, and John still couldn’t shake the feeling of boredom and lethargy. There wasn’t even anything fascinating enough to take pictures of with this stupid camera. He had already been around to the standard local landmarks. Took one of Harry and her hot university girlfriends. In continental Europe, he thought, there would have been _plenty_ to photograph.

 

So when John went outside that Sunday morning to get the mail he had only brought the camera with him out of habit. “The best pictures are never planned, son” his father had said, “Always be alert for the perfect shot”, and John, hoping to god that next year he could ride around on a motorbike and not in Harry’s old beaten up car, had begun taking it everywhere.   

 

He did not expect to see the large moving truck parked at the house directly across the street. Boxes were scattered haphazardly on the driveway. There seemed to be quite a lot of large furniture to take in. Several men were scattered about the yard engaged in various upkeep tasks. One mowed the lawn while another planted flowers up the walkway and another pruned the hedges. There were some on ladders updating the paint on some of the panels. What the devil? John thought. Is her majesty coming to visit or something?

 

But it was an interesting enough scenario to capture. The light was hitting the house just the right way, brightening the white painted wood paneling and the red brick, neatly illuminating the cobble stone path.  Those recently planted begonias. This was John’s first official picture of the summer. Halle-fucking-lujah, he thought.  

 

And as he was proving his own maturity, he brought out the notepad he kept with the camera and named his photograph. After all, that’s what all the real photographers, the ones that had new cameras and could probably buy their own motorcycles, did.

 

_First picture, Sunday, 6 th July, 2014_

_“Moving Day”—Clearly someone important, or self-important, is coming to live here_

For his sake he hoped the people across the street would have a kid around his age. Preferably someone who was interesting enough to be good company just by himself. The rest of the neighborhood boys had gone on the trip, and John was badly in need of a friend with whom to pass the rest of this miserable summer.


	2. Chapter 2

_#2  Monday, 7 th July, 2014_

_“Neighbors”—So this was sort of hard to capture without them noticing, but I had nothing better to do, not that I’m complaining, two boys obviously, older one looks older than Harry, younger one’s younger than me I think, ~~fuck~~_

It was the same house the last photograph had captured. Except now there were two boys sitting on the porch together, a similar solemn expression indicating they might be brothers. But no other noticeable physical similarity. The more well built of the two had straight-ish, auburn hair, at the time the picture was taken he wasn’t looking towards the camera but towards the younger brother, with a strangely penetrating gaze. The other was very fair, very thin, but with a similarly intense gaze, as if it would bore a hole through those begonias. Where they sat there was shade, whereas the rest of the picture was almost comically bright, the exterior of the house spruced up to fit well on the cover of a magazine. New gold lettering on the red brick. One word. Probably their last name. “Holmes”.

_#3 Monday 7 th July, 2014_

_“Movie Theater” –Harry took me, said she couldn’t stand seeing me mope around the house any longer_

This snap of John’s was commonplace enough. People with snacks everywhere. Warm lighting. A crying child in the bottom right corner. A toddler in the middle left that might be lost. Red, checkered carpet. Two ticket stubs lying on the floor. Irritated looking Harry mouthing something. Overflowing dustbin. Old film posters peeling from the walls. Refreshment kiosk.

_#4 Tuesday 7 th July, 2014_

_“Deduction Face” –the kid, whose name is apparently ‘Sherlock Holmes’ is my age, he just looks younger because he’s thin, did this odd thing where he knew everything about me, took his picture to annoy him back, he didn’t mind_

Looking back John was especially proud of this one; it wasn’t an expression most people could make. That intense gaze. Slightly arrogant attitude. Rather aristocratic demeanor. All while retaining the impression that he was keeping a secret, one no one knew. And he was looking directly into the camera. Just perfect. He was fairly photogenic. The skin almost luminescent, the camera picked up the moisture in that dark curly hair, and it captured several different shades of blue within the eyes that weren’t immediately apparent when looking at him in person.

_#5 Wednesday 7 th July, 2014_

_“Boredom” –no worries, this isn’t about me, I went up to his room to see him, found him like this, he hasn’t said anything about the picture taking, so I don’t think he cares, I’m going to keep doing it_

Sherlock was lying on his back on the bed. His hands steepled underneath his chin. The window was open. Wind was coming in. It looked exactly as a room might of someone who had just moved in. Only a few personal touches. Microscope on the desk. Periodic table hanging above it. Laptop open on the desk too. Several tabs open.

_#6 Thursday 8 th July, 2014_

_“The Athlete” –skateboarding apparently isn’t his thing_

A singularly angry expression. Mouth open as if saying something. Red scraped knees. Skateboard a slight distance away, blurred, probably had been in motion. Mid-day. Grey car approaching, far right.

_#7 Thursday 8 th July, 2014_

_“The Sound of Music” –I asked, violin is his thing, I know you guys love that film, his mother yelled at him, skateboarding and such things aren’t good for him from what I caught her say, we’ll find other things, he’s pretty interesting_

The sun is almost setting. The light coming in the room creates a very tranquil feeling that the camera manages to showcase. New curtains have been brought in from the last room picture. Blue. Violin is front and center of the image. And his hands. Long, thin fingers. His face is turned slightly away from the camera. He’s playing but he’s closed his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

_#9 Friday 9 th July, 2014_

_“Chemistry Experiments” –honestly where was this guy when I was taking Chem II at school?_

Beakers and tubes everywhere. It’s such a mess and he’s standing right in the center. No goggles and aprons in sight, though it feels like there should be.

_#10 Friday 9 th July, 2014_

_“Experiment Gone Wrong” –self explanatory_

There’s chemicals everywhere. That hardwood floor is never going to look the same. Two boys are just sitting there on the floor laughing. Smoke is still rising. This is probably a housing code violation.

_#11 Saturday 10 th July, 2014_

_“Let’s Bother Mycroft” –it’s his favorite activity, so he’s decided to share it, Mycroft is his brother_

A very posh-looking, annoyed ginger haired man. Two sniggering teenagers.


End file.
